The platinum coin is killed as America careens toward default

The platinum coin is dead, long live the debt ceiling.

On Saturday evening, the Washington Post's Ezra Klein dropped a bombshell: The platinum coin gambit – the plan to circumvent the American debt ceiling by minting a trillion-dollar coin and depositing it in the Federal Reserve – is dead. Klein writes:

That’s the bottom line of the statement that Anthony Coley, a spokesman for the Treasury Department, gave me today. “Neither the Treasury Department nor the Federal Reserve believes that the law can or should be used to facilitate the production of platinum coins for the purpose of avoiding an increase in the debt limit,” he said.

The Treasury's take on the law is one thing; but the Federal Reserve, as a quasi-independent body, is really what's put the kibosh on the whole plan. If it doesn't believe that using a platinum coin to circumvent the debt limit would be legal, that's it. The lynchpin of the plan was that the Treasury, after using powers granted to it through a loophole in a law intended to let it mint commemorative coins for collectors, would be able to deposit the coin in its account in the Fed. If the Fed won't take it, the plan's bust.

Joe Weisenthal, the most consistent advocate of the platinum coin, points out that it's hard to work out what point of law the Fed was actually trying to apply here:

It seems odd that the Fed would decide that there's some legal tender that it will recognize, and some legal tender that it wouldn't recognize.

Paul Krugman, who became a high-profile advocate of minting the coin last week, asks what the administration's plan is now, but also somewhat unfairly places the blame on Obama. Given the White House's comment to Buzzfeed focuses on the Fed, it seems like they weren't exactly behind the move to pre-emptively remove the bargaining chip from the table.

Regardless, the administration's position now is clear. The debt ceiling must be lifted, and they will offer no "concessions" to do so. With the platinum coin out of the equation – and with the so-called "constitutional option", where the President cites the 14th amendment's command that the validity of the public debt "shall not be questioned" and ignores the debt ceiling, ruled out by the White House last month – the Republicans can be under no illusions that if they fail to concede, America will definitely have a messy government shutdown, and will likely enter technical default on its public debt. The only question that they have to answer is whether they have an ounce of rationality left, or if they'll take the whole system down, themselves included.

Past experience suggests that the latter is worryingly possible. For one thing, conservative economists like John Cochrane have been minimising the effect of hitting the ceiling. Cochrane casts doubt on possibility of default by rightly pointing out that the Treasury has enough income to make debt repayments even if the ceiling is hit. But by ignoring the practical aspects of hitting the ceiling, he bypasses an important point. The treasury pays its bills with a vastly complex, automated system. It is not clear it has the technology to "prioritise" debt repayments, nor is it clear that to do so would be legal.

And even worse, those GOP members who do understand the likelihood of a default aren't too concerned. Politico's Jim Vandehei, Mike Allen and Jake Sherman write:

GOP officials said more than half of their members are prepared to allow default unless Obama agrees to dramatic cuts he has repeatedly said he opposes…

“For too long, the pitch was, we’ll deal with it next time,” said Rep. Jason Chaffetz, a conservative from Utah. He said GOP lawmakers are prepared to shut things down or even default if Obama doesn’t bend on spending. “No one wants to default, but we are not going to continue to give the president a limitless credit card.”

If the US did default on its debt – even just by paying a coupon a day late – the international knock-on effects would be massive, and unprecedented. Now that every option for preventing that has been taken off the table save for negotiating with the most radical congress ever, the financial community may start to take note.

Photograph: Wikimedia Commons

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear